Alamo
by Worldsweaver
Summary: What would happen if Texas lost the revolution? OC, blood, violence, charecter death, mild swearing. Now with an alternate ending
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I might not own Hetalia- but Texas is MINE. **

**So basically one day I stopped my train of thought in social studies and thought to myself: "Hm, what would have happened if Texas lost the revolution and became Mexican territory..." And basically that's how this story was formed.**

**I named Texas Vasco (which means Crow). But he's still in the creation process. So his past name used to be Alonzo (which means Always Ready For A Fight). If you guys have any suggestions about his name please feel free to post it in the suggestions! :3**

**Yes. I know that the Texicans lost the battle of the Alamo. So if your going to say that I'm an idiot and didn't do my history your most likely incorrect.**

**Enjoy! (Texas will give you a buttermilk biscuit. :D) **

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><p>A L A M O<p>

_"You all might be going to hell, but I'm going to Texas."_

The famous last words of Davy Crockett ran through the mans head as hastily reloaded his musket. Taking aim on the one of the many Mexicans scaling his walls he fired; the man he had hit gasped and lost his grip before tumbling off the ledge, blood staining his chest.

The dry, blood stained grass cracked under the boots of hundreds of intruding soldiers. 2,400: He had been told that was the number of the Mexican soldiers. Combined along with the reinforcements he had only close to 300. Re-loading his rifle he then fired again, the musket call striking his target in the head.

Vasco remembered the day this had started, when he had proudly stated for her to take the cannon out of his cold, dead hands before firing it into her army. Each time one of his people was shot a pain riddled through his limbs. He was used to it by now, but still the amount of times it happened troubled him to say the least.

"Hermano~" He could hear his sister call out from below him. "Vasco, why don't you come back and join us? I promise I won't kill you if you surrender now~" Her voice was smooth, but at the same time cold and unforgiving like ice. He shuddered but continued shooting the attacking army.

The Texian drew in a sharp gasp of air when he saw the Mexican Army aim two large cannons at the fort. He saw them load the barrels and light the fuse. He heard the sickening crack as the cannons fired the twenty pound missiles.

Rubble flew everywhere.

His beautiful building Spain had helped him build when he still ran around in the wild with the Karankawa, now two large holes; one in the wall and one blew down the large doors. A large stone hit him in the right shoulder. Vasco ducked beneath the wall and sitting up against it, he looked down at the shards of rock implanted into his shoulder; bit of bone stuck out randomly through his blood-soaked shirt. His hat blew off his head and landed far below him from the impact of the rubble. Gritting his teeth he slowly cut away the piece of fabric covering the wound. Then he peeled the blood soaked piece of fabric off the ruined shoulder- strings of the shirt slicing across the tender area. A thin layer of sweat streaked across his brow as he tore off a strip of clothing from his shirt and bandaged the wound.

Another boom of a cannon could be heard. The walls shuddered and moaned as dust tumbled down off the tall walls and down onto the blood-painted soil. Vasco forced himself into standing again and saw that the Mexicans had made it into the interior of the fort. No matter how munch his body wanted the fight to be over he wouldn't let that happen till he took his dying breath.

He could feel the shoulder would already starting to heal; with physical wounds to the humans part of Vasco they would heal quickly. With physical wounds to his land, and hopefully own country soon enough they would take as long as it took the actual land to heal. He vaulted himself over the wall and landed down into the fight.

Unsheathing the rapier he had at his side he parried one mans attack then struck the man in the neck as a counter attack. Vasco ducked the next swipe from a blade at lashed out at the mans lower legs with the blade causing him to fall to the ground. The personification of Texas stood and parried the next attack. Just as he was going to finish the man he heard a pistol fired, then felt the hard impact of a bullet strike him in the back. The fight was over as he was taken down to his knees.

"Papá should have named you Burro instead of Vasco. You stubborn bastardo." He could here her slick accented voice cut through the cannon fire as she walked over to him. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt she dragged him off the field and propped him up against the rock interior wall of the missionary. "It's to bad that I have to kill my own hermano; but padre Spain likes me more so he won't miss you that much." Mexico hissed grabbing his hair and roughly holding it up against the wall so they were at eye level.

"Donkey, crow... there's really no difference." The man said he could feel the heavy lead of the bullet settling deeply into his chest. He could feel the blood starting to well up into his lungs. Vasco coughed; trickling beads of blood spattered across his mouth.

"Adios, dear brother." She said innocently. Maria drew the small knife that hung at her waist and pointed it at him. "Spain wanted me to kill you. He practically begged me to kill you after we abandoned him." She traced a cut across the bridge of the mans nose, blood leaked into the mans half opened mouth.

Vasco was to weak to say much the bullet was like poison for him, he had been shot before- but not like this. "Why can't I have my freedom." He murmured.

"Your turning into that bastardo America." The hissed. Another cannon boomed and rubble was thrown everywhere. Mexico stood. She tossed her knife to him and left. Texas's vision started to blur- he closed his eyes and started to drift off to unconsciousness.

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><p>Texas awoke to searing pain in near his eye. Immediately he brought his hand up to it, when he examined his hand with his one good eye he could seen crimson covering the tips of his dirty fingers. There must have been another explosion and something hit it while he was still out.<p>

Getting shakily to his feet he pooped himself against the wall; the fight was over. Mexico won. Dust still blew in small dust-devils around the once beautiful courtyard of the missionary. All the grass had been trampled into the ground and was stained red, littered with dead bodies. Texas shakily walked over to one of the bodies, the Tennessean lay surrounded by a least sixteen dead Mexican soldiers.

Vasco smirked at the fire he had seen in the man's eyes. Davy had selflessly devoted himself to their cause and now he was dead. The fire that once burned in Mr Crockett's eyes now extinguished. They lost the Alamo. Texas slumped against a slightly broken clay pot. Still staring at the man. He could feel the irregular beating of his heart slow.

Sighing he took out the knife that Mexico had handed him; he could see even with his blurred vision the inscription carved into the hilt. He remembered carving the handle and fitting the blade.

'México, Hice esto con usted en mente. El amor tu hermano, Texas.' Was what he read to himself. He should have known something like this would have happened. He should have not grown so attached to his sister. He should have known..

Vasco held the blade delicately. His half-closed dying eye reading and re-reading the words inscribed onto it.

He was found a day later by Mexico. He was one of the hundreds of bodies they burned that day. She spotted the knife clutched in her brothers hands as the piles burned.

Texas was now Mexican territory again.

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><p><strong>AN On February 23, approximately 1,500 Mexican troops marched into San Antonio de Béxar as the first step in a campaign to re-take Texas. For the next 12 days the two armies engaged in several skirmishes with minimal casualties. Aware that his garrison could not withstand an attack by such a large force, Travis wrote multiple letters pleading for more men and supplies, but fewer than 100 reinforcements arrived**

**Now personally, I think that the reason that Texas decided to make his own country was not the best idea. But I won't argue about it. I hope you have enjoyed this fic and have a wonderful day! (or night.)**


	2. Chapter 2: Alternate ending

**A/N That's right! I made an alternate ending! Where Texas-**

**Texas: Ahem. Well, we made a couple spelling corrections and such. **

**So, I don't own Hetalia, but Texas is mine~ so go ahead and read... =.= That's why you clicked on the link, right?**

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><p><em>"You all might be going to hell, but I'm going to Texas." <em>

The famous last words of Davy Crockett ran through the mans head as hastily reloaded his musket. Taking aim on the one of the many Mexicans scaling his walls he fired; the man he had hit gasped and lost his grip before tumbling off the ledge, blood staining his chest.

The dry, blood stained grass cracked under the boots of hundreds of intruding soldiers; 2,400, he had been told that was the number of the Mexican soldiers. Combined along with the reinforcements he had only close to 300. Re-loading his rifle he then fired again, the musket call striking his target in the head.

Vasco remembered the day this had started, when he had proudly stated for her to take the cannon out of his cold, dead hands before firing it into her army. Each time one of his people was shot a pain riddled through his limbs. He was used to it by now, but still the amount of times it happened troubled him to say the least.

"Hermano~" He could hear his sister call out from below him. Her voice overshadowing the screams of men and the blasts of black-powder. "Vasco, why don't you come back and join us? I promise I won't kill you if you surrender now~" Her voice was smooth, but at the same time cold and unforgiving like ice. He shuddered but continued shooting the attacking army.

The Texian drew in a sharp gasp of air when he saw the Mexican Army aim two large cannons at the fort. He saw them load the barrels and light the fuse. He heard the sickening crack as the cannons fired the twenty pound missiles.

Rubble flew everywhere.

His beautiful building Spain had helped him build when he still ran around in the wild with the Karankawa, now had two large holes; one in the wall and one blew down the large doors. A large stone hit him in the right shoulder. Vasco ducked beneath the wall and sitting up against it, he looked down at the shards of rock implanted into his shoulder; bit of bone stuck out randomly through his blood-soaked shirt. His hat blew off his head and landed far below him from the impact of the rubble. Gritting his teeth he slowly cut away the piece of fabric covering the wound. Then he peeled the blood soaked piece of fabric off the ruined shoulder- strings of the shirt slicing across the tender area. A thin layer of sweat streaked across his brow as he tore off a strip of clothing from his shirt and bandaged the wound.

Another boom of a cannon could be heard. The walls shuddered and moaned as dust tumbled down off the tall walls and down onto the blood-painted soil. Vasco forced himself into standing again and saw that the Mexicans had made it into the interior of the fort. No matter how munch his body wanted the fight to be over he wouldn't let that happen till he took his dying breath.

He could feel the shoulder would already starting to heal; with physical wounds to the human part of Vasco they would heal quickly. With physical wounds to his land, and hopefully own country soon enough they would take as long as it took the actual land to heal. He vaulted himself over the wall and landed down into the fight.

Unsheathing the rapier he had at his side he parried one mans attack then struck the attacker in the neck as a counter attack. Vasco ducked the next swipe from a blade at lashed out at the mans lower legs with the blade causing him to fall to the ground. The personification of Texas stood and parried the next attack. Just as he was going to finish the soldier he heard a pistol fired, then felt the hard impact of a bullet strike him in the back. The fight was over as he was taken down to his knees.

"Papá should have named you Burro instead of Vasco. You stubborn bastardo." He could here her slick accented voice cut through the cannon fire as she walked over to him. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt she dragged him off the field and propped him up against the rock interior wall of the missionary. "It's to bad that I have to kill my own hermano; but padre Spain likes me more so he won't miss you that much." Mexico hissed grabbing his hair and roughly holding it up against the wall so they were at eye level.

"Donkey, crow... there's really no difference." The man said he could feel the heavy lead of the bullet settling deeply into his chest. He could feel the blood starting to well up into his lungs. Vasco coughed; trickling beads of blood spattered across his mouth.

"Adios, dear brother." She said innocently. Maria drew the small knife that hung at her waist and pointed it at him. "Spain wanted me to kill you. He practically begged me to kill you after we abandoned him." She traced a cut across the bridge of the mans nose, blood leaked into Vasco's half opened mouth.

Vasco was to weak to say much the bullet was like poison for him, he had been shot before- but not like this. "Why can't I have my freedom." He murmured.

"Your turning into that bastardo America." The hissed. Another cannon boomed and rubble cascaded everywhere. Mexico stood. She tossed her knife to him and left. Texas's vision started to blur- he closed his eyes and started to drift off to unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>Texas awoke to searing pain near his eye. Immediately he brought his hand up to it, when he examined his hand with his one good eye he could seen crimson covering the tips of his dirty fingers. There must have been another explosion and something hit it while he was still out.<p>

Getting shakily to his feet he propped himself against the wall; the fight was over. Mexico won. Dust still blew in small spirals around the once beautiful courtyard of the missionary. All the grass had been trampled into the ground and was stained red, littered with dead bodies.

Texas shakily walked over to one of the bodies, the Tennessean lay surrounded by a least sixteen dead Mexican soldiers.

Vasco smirked at the fire he had seen in the man's eyes. Davy had selflessly devoted himself to their cause and now he was dead. The fire that once burned in Mr Crockett's eyes now extinguished. They lost the Alamo. Texas slumped against a slightly broken clay pot. Still staring at the man. He could feel the irregular beating of his heart slow.

Sighing he took out the knife that Mexico had handed him; he could see even with his blurred vision the inscription carved into the hilt. He remembered carving the handle and fitting the blade.

_'México, __Hice esto con usted en mente.__ El amor tu hermano, Texas.' _Was what he read to himself. He should have known something like this would have happened. He should have not grown so attached to his sister. He should have known.

Vasco held the blade delicately. As if it might break if he used touched it at an angle. His half-closed eye reading and re-reading the words inscribed onto it.

* * *

><p>He was found a day later by Mexico. Walking around the ruins of the old sanctuary.<p>

"Adios Hermana," he almost smiled, it enraged her that he continued that damn psychological battle with her.

"Why do you continue to do this?" She screamed, raising her small pistol. "I do not want to kill you!"

"You've gone from threatening to kill me, to tears; that's a tad odd, don't you think?" The Texian tapped his chin as if in thought.

"Dammit Vasco! You want me to shoot you! Just shut up and become Mexican territory again!"

"Not particularly. All I want is my freedom-"

_Bang._

Texas stumbled back clutching his side, the bullet had dug deeply into his torso. "Shit. Maria, did you really have to shoot me?"

"Si, and you're still talking." Maria walked over to him as he lay on the ground, she raised her shoes and set it down on the wound. The man cringed as she applied more and more pressure to the bloodied area.

She removed her foot from the bullet wound. Vasco was breathing heavily, blood staining crimson on his dirt coated shirt.

"F-fine. I won't fight.. I give." He groaned.

"Good. You're Mexican territory again, Hermano." With that, she turned and left to rejoin the small group of men that were to ride back to Mexico.

Texas lay on the ground, staring up at the open sky. He enjoyed life without cities, you could see every star in the sky; there must have been a billion of them dotting the vast empty oblivion.

He sighed, and then winced as he removed the musket ball from his abdomen. The wound started to close as he sat up.

Stretching as he stood he could make out the faint corner of a tattered old hat sticking out of some rubble a couple yards away. He ambled over the ruins and pulled out the beaten up looking hat.

Smirking he brushed of the dust as placed it on his head, turning east he could just make out the faint glow of a settlement. He had better start walking if he wanted to win this damn revolution.

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><p><strong>AN Okay, so. it wound up being a two-shot-ish-thingy-kind-of. -_-**

**But basically this is just a happier look at things. **

**And it's still true, in some parts of Texas where their are no cities, it feels like your really tiny becuase of all the millions of stars you can see. Maybe thats why Texans have that issue with everything being bigger because we feel so tiny and insignificant when ever we go out into the country. ._.**

**Translation: _México, __Hice esto con usted en mente.__ El amor tu hermano, Texas. :: _Mexico, I made this with you in mind. With love, your brother Texas.**

**~:~REVIEW~:~ (please.)**


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